Unsportsmanlike Conduct
by Maryilee
Summary: Vince's offhand complaint has drastic consequences for Coach.


"Man, you got your ass-chewed on the field. Why you let that guy get in your face like that?" Calvin shook his head and shot the basketball.

Vince scowled and grabbed the rebound. "He says he yells at me because I'm good."

"Shit, man. Hate to see what he does to the players who suck." Calvin swiped at the ball.

"He don't yell at them. Just me."

"So why don't you quit? Jus' walk away."

Vince posted and shot a jumper. He should quit. Let Coach deal with the team without him. He'd have no team to deal with, unless you counted that Landry kid. And Luke. Vince beat Calvin to the ball, giving him a hard check when the other guy blocked him out from the basket.

Dribbling, Vince kept his eye on Cal. "I quit, I go to juvie. That was the deal."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"But you quit once already. Nothin' happened."

Vince stopped dribbling and tucked the ball under his arm. "But the whole team quit then. That wasn't my fault. I kept the deal. I can't quit now. Coach would call that cop from that program, and I'd be off to juvie."

"You done got them all back together." Cal laughed and snagged the ball away, going in for an easy lay-up. "You wasn't thinking, brother."

Vince watched. "Yeah. Now it'd have to be something not my fault, like getting hurt or the coach quitting or something." He held out his hands for a pass and smiled. "I'm too good to get hurt." His tone was mocking, but he felt a stab of guilt. Coach was the only one who ever gave a damn about him. The only one who's ever said he was good at anything. He caught the ball and turned away. "Come on, man. It's too hot out. Let's go get a coke."

"I could get stupid ass coach to quit." Cal stepped in front of him, his eyes hard.

"Yeah? How you gonna do that?" The second he asked, he wished he could reel the words back in. He put up his hand. "Hold on, forget it. The season only lasts a few more months. It's cool."

"You letting the man win." Calvin gave him a scornful look. "But I got your back, bro. You're covered."

Vince studied Cal's face for a long moment. The guy scared him sometimes. He was always so angry. "Naw, man. It's okay."

*****

Eric speared his hands through his hair, and then rested his head in his palms. No matter how he wrote up the plays, he didn't have the players qualified to run them. Not enough of them anyway. In the skilled positions, he only had one guy with experience, Luke, and he couldn't play every position, as much as Eric would love to clone the kid. Vince had the raw talent, but had a long way to go before he was ready for anything but basic plays. Lance or Landry, whatever the hell his name was, had a year of experience, but that was as a bench-warmer. The kid had heart though, Eric gave him that.

He had to smile. Last year, he would have laughed if someone told him that Landry would be one of his starters this year. Now, Landry was the veteran trying to show the new players the ropes.

The team had finished practice an hour ago, and all the players had left. The other coaches had gone home too, Stan the last of them, much to Eric's relief. The guy worshiped the ground Eric walked on, and it was freaky as hell. At least he'd stopped repeating everything. He was a good coach though. The guy knew his stuff, and Eric wasn't in any position to look a gift horse in the mouth.

His stomach growled and he glanced at the clock. Almost seven p.m. If he wanted to see Gracie before she went to bed, he'd have to leave soon. He pulled out his cellphone and called Tami. "Hey, hon. I'm just finishing up. Do we need anything from the store?"

"If you could get a gallon of milk, that'd be great. Gracie Bell is drinking the last of it as we speak."

Eric smiled. "Sure. See ya soon."

He stood and stretched, grabbed his cap and locked up on his way out. The facilities were a shabby step down from what he was used to at West Dillon, but there was a certain character to the place that was seeping into him.

There was no reserved parking for him here, just wherever he could manage to find a spot in the morning. A couple of kids hung out behind the school, the soft glow of a cigarette giving them away. Eric stopped, his hands on his hips. "Hey, y'all go on home. Don't be hanging out here causing trouble."

The cigarette hit the ground, and the kids sauntered away. Eric turned towards his truck and reached into his pocket for his keys. A blast of white exploded in his vision followed by all encompassing pain in his head. The keys flew out of his hand as he fell to his knees.

"Yo. Coach. I gotta message for you."

Eric raised his hand to the right side of his head and swiped it across his eyes to clear them. "W-what?"

Who the hell was talking and what the hell had happened? Dizzy, he tried to stand but stumbled forward, skinning his hands on small rocks in the parking lot. He caught a blur of movement on his left an instant before pain blasted through his ribs and stomach. Gagging, he fell to his side as another blow landed with a thud to his lower black. Arching away from the pain, he groaned, unable to process what was happening or who was attacking him. He had the sense of several people surrounding him.

Dimly, he heard shouting. Arguing. They were talking about him. A voice sounded familiar, but before he could place it, something struck the back of his head.

*****

His head hurt. It was his first thought. His second was, he was going to puke. With a sickening lurch, his stomach heaved and he struggled to raise his head and turn to his side, just succeeding before the pot of coffee that had been his dinner spewed out of his mouth. Excruciating pain hammered through him, centering between his eyes. When he took a deep breath to try to ease the throbbing, his ribs sent knife like bolts lancing through his chest. He groaned, clamping his arm to his chest.

He squinted at his surroundings. Where the hell was he? He rubbed his eyes. The weak light came from a distant street lamp, and he finally recognized the East Dillon parking lot. As he moved his head, light reflected off something shiny and he reached out, missing it the first time, but grabbed the object on the second try. His keys.

It dawned on him that the dark shape beside him was his truck. He had to get home. Tami was waiting for him. He latched onto that thought. His stomach clenched and he gagged as another wave of nausea crested, but he blew out a shaky breath when it subsided.

Gasping, he staggered to his feet, falling across the hood. He closed his eyes, resting for a moment before he straightened and managed to get to his door. The damn keyhole was a nearly impossible target and he swore, wishing he'd listened to Tami when she had wanted a keyless remote for her birthday present. The key kept slipping in his fingers and he missed the hole again. Eric leaned his forehead against the window. Slow down.

His knees buckled, startling him to alertness. He swiped his hand across his eyes and stabbed the key once more towards the lock, too exhausted to even rejoice when it hit home.

The drive home was a blur. Oncoming car lights stabbed into his eyes, and he swerved to the side. Someone honked their horn and sped past him. His nose began dripping and he felt along the side of his seat, finding a few paper napkins to use to staunch the flow. Another horn blasted and he groaned at the noise, but jerked the steering wheel, getting the truck back in his lane.

* * *

"What in the world could be keeping your father?" Tami peeked out the window, then glanced at Julie sprawled on the couch with a book.

"No idea. Maybe he went to the Landing Strip with Buddy Garrity." She smirked as she turned a page.

Tami would have laughed at the idea except she was too pissed. "I bet he's still at his desk. You know how your dad gets when he's working on plays." She crossed the room and plopped down beside Jules. It wasn't like Eric to not answer his phone and worry started tying a knot in her stomach.

Gracie had fallen asleep thirty minutes ago, and it would be another night Eric didn't get to see her. He promised to be home in time tonight. Anger vied with the worry for her attention.

The doorbell rang and Tami jumped up, but Julie was faster. "It's for me, Mom. Matt's here."

Tami sank onto the sofa again, picking up the discarded book. The Grapes of Wrath. She remembered reading the book in high school. Idly, she leafed through it, reading a passage or two, but her thoughts kept straying to Eric. A mosquito landed on her arm, and she swatted it. Julie must be standing with the door open while they talked. Annoyed, she stood, about to cross the living room to the foyer, but car lights careened into the driveway.

"Mom?" There was a strange note in Julie's voice. A note that made Tami's heart race. A note of puzzlement and fear. "Something's wrong with Dad."

Tami rushed through the foyer and out the door. Eric had parked at a crazy angle, just missing her car. "What in the world?"

Julie and Matt were already at the car, and Julie reached for the handle, then recoiled, stumbling backwards into Tami.

"What's wrong?" Matt still blocked her view of Eric in the driver's seat.

The young man was knocking on the window. "Coach! Open the doors!"

Julie held up her hand. "It's blood!"

"Dear Lord. Jules, go get my keys, they're on the counter. Matt, call 911."

"Yes, ma'am."

The driveway light showed dark smears on the hood and driver's door. She took Matt's place as he ran into the house. "Eric!" He was slumped against the window. A second later, Julie raced up, her hands trembling as she found the right key and put it in the hole.

Matt returned as Tami opened the door, and he lunged to catch Eric as he tumbled out of the vehicle. The three of them managed to get him onto the ground. Blood trickled from a cut covered by his hair. There was so much blood, some of it dried, that the source was impossible to identify. His nose had pink fluid dripping and his gray shirt was splotched with dirt and blood.

Tami knelt beside him. "Eric? Can you hear me?" She reached a hand out, but didn't know where to touch him. What had happened? Had he crashed the car? But how did the blood get on the hood? Had he hit someone? Or a deer? There wasn't any damage to the vehicle that she could see, so that didn't make sense.

Julie jumped to her feet. "I'm going to get a blanket. We need to keep him warm."

Eric blinked and groaned.

"Hon?" Tami took his hand in hers, unmindful of the crusted blood.

He squinted, his eyes finding her. "I forgot the milk."


End file.
